Expectation and Assumption
by sunburntdaisy
Summary: Neil climbs the stairs, adorned with music and flowers. What if he found what he was expecting?  This is another variation on 'The Road Home'. Should I continue this story or 'The Doctor is In? Vote via reviews.
1. Chapter 1

Expectation and assumption.

Neil paused on hearing the music. For a moment he feared Margaret had returned. He didn't have the energy to face her right now. Or perhaps ever again.

Then he saw the flowers, wild flowers, no doubt picked from the grasses between here and the mission. He smiled at the thought and strode forward, without hesitation, impatient to see her. The door was ajar so he stepped up and then stopped, watched.

There she was, a sprig of laurel tucked into her hair. She stood over the stove, dropping a handful of something into a hot pan. It hissed and she stepped back.

He stepped forward and the sound of his footstep called her attention.

"Oh, Neil. I didn't see you there."

"I would have announced myself but...this is a nice surprise."

She turned back to the carrots and gave them a stir.

"Your not here campaigning for something are you?"

"No." She smiled, "No hidden agenda. I promise."

He walked up behind her and looked over her shoulder at the pan.

She felt the heat of his presence behind her, so close. It made her feel so much warmth and longing that she lost her nerve. She let the spoon rest on the side of the pan, and stared out the window, searching for something – courage or the right words or an answer to this seemingly impossible situation.

"What is it?" He put his hands on her shoulders, "What's wrong?" He slid his hands down, holding onto her arms now. "Has something happened?" He turned her around to face him, touching the side of his forefinger to her chin, willing her to look him in the eye.

She shook her head, found the courage to look at him, and to smile.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me."

"That's just it." She sighed, "I do, don't I. I tell you – confide in you." She shook her head and turned back to the stove. "And not as a doctor."

"And I confide in you. Is that wrong?" He stepped aside so he could see her face.

She stopped stirring and turned to face him. "I don't know. I don't think so."

"But that's what has you looking so worried?"

She smiled, "not exactly."

"I can't help unless you talk to me." He watched her turn back to the food. "I can't read your mind."

"Feels like you can sometimes."

"You have an expressive face, and I know you."

She nodded, "I went to El Pano. I talked to Margaret."

"What did she say to you?" He stepped forward, suddenly aggravated.

She shook her head, refusing to answer, "I told her you were worth fighting for," she turned away, unequal to seeing his expression, "but now I realise..."

He waited, a frustrated sigh slipping out. "Realise what?"

"I'd fight for you." She turned back to face him. "I've no right to say it, let alone do it, but that doesn't change the way I feel." She folded her arms.

He smiled, reached out his hand and touched her cheek. "I must say I'm relieved."

"How can you be?"

"I was expecting you to say that you were going to marry Grantland."

She shook her head, "I have to tell him I can't. He won't understand, but it has to be done." She turned back to the stove, added the spices she'd cut up earlier, then some water.

"So what do we do now?" Neil leaned back on the bench beside her.

She looked up at him, hoped he would answer his own question, then seeing he wouldn't, couldn't, she looked away, watching the stock swirl in the wake of her spoon.

"Coming home to you – this vision of loveliness," he exhaled, shook his head, "Perhaps I deserve this exquisite torture, but you..." He changed tack, "Tell me..."

She stopped stirring at the shift in his tone of voice.

"How do you feel about divorce?"

Slowly she began to stir again. "In theory, I've always thought it was wrong. But now...? You have a knack for testing all my theories." She looked up at him, forcing a smile.

He stepped closer, "This time it wasn't on purpose."

"But the others were?"

He smiled, wrinkling around the eyes.

She wanted to reach out and touch those lines, trace them with her thumb, the palm of her hand pressed to his cheek, her fingers in his hair.

"Is there a chicken in that oven?"

She laughed and shook her head. "Quality over quantity, this time." She pulled her eyes away from his, and picked up a small pile of chopped herbs from the board beside her. She crushed them between her fingers and sprinkled them over the pan. "It's almost ready. Perhaps you could set the table."

He nodded, hesitated for a moment, then pushed off the bench and set to work.

He finished before she did. He watched her lift the spoon to her lips and taste the sauce. She added a little pepper and stirred it in.

"I can't tell you how much this means to me." It was a poor expression of his regard, but he felt it was all he could say.

"It's nothing." She lifted the pan and brought it to the table, resting it on a mat between the place-settings.

"No," he shook his head, pulled out her chair. "It's not nothing to me."

She sat. She watched him take the seat opposite her.

"It smells incredible."

"Don't let your expectations get too high." She spooned the food onto his plate then sat back to serve herself. "I'd hate to disappoint you."

He sighed.

She looked up, arrested by the serious look in his eyes. "My expectations have already taken flight. It's too late for caution, Christy."

"There's only so much I can do with carrots and beans and potatoes."

He smiled. "I was beginning to wonder if you had limits at all."

"Neil..."

He nodded once, agreeing to stop this teasing, if that's what it was, for now. He took a mouthful of dinner and spoke before he swallowed, "Good."

She smiled and ate. It was good – hot and flavourful, comforting even.

"You're not a rotten cook at all. I was angry. I didn't mean it."

She laughed. "It's all right. I was that day."

"And I jumped down your throat."

"I may have deserved it."

"Maybe." He took another mouthful and savoured it. "Perhaps you should go back to burning the chicken. It'd make it easier to let you go."

She looked up at him and put down her fork. "What are we going to do?"

"We're going to eat dinner. And then..." words seem to fail him.

"Wash up?"

He smiled, swallowed, nodded.

"And then?" She pushed.

He searched her face. "Dance."

She took a ragged breath and went back to her meal, though it had lost most of its appeal.

She looked up at the scraping of Neil's chair. He had stood, pushing it back, and went outside. She wanted to follow but didn't dare, until she heard the music.

She stood, walking toward the door as he came back inside. He stopped in front of her, touched her cheek, then stepped up, closing the space between them as he took her hands.

"I thought you were speaking metaphorically." She let him lead her in this simple, literal dance. If it were all they could have, then they could at least enjoy this.

"I was. But this might be more attainable."

She held him tighter, closer. "I suppose we have to take what we can get – or maybe we shouldn't -"

He stopped her with a kiss, clamping his lips to hers and inhaling desperately, as if he could breath her in, take part of her into himself and never be truly parted from her again.

She lifted her hands to his face and, once the shock had abated, kissed him back.

Then he broke the kiss, exhaling hotly onto her cheek.

She gasped for air. Her hands were still on his face and his eyes asked a thousand questions. Her only answer was to reach up to him, press her lips to his.

He opened his mouth against hers and without thought she responded in kind. She pressed her fingers back into his hair and clung to him..

He responded fervently, pulling her close, so close she had to arch against him to keep kissing him, and stopping did not seem to be an option, so arch against him she did. If she was shocked at her own behaviour then the thought was quickly banished from her mind by a searing, delving, desperate kiss. Her head spun and the rest of the world seemed to disappear. She knew only his face, soft and rough at once, his strong arms wrapped tightly around her, the unfamiliar contours of his body, pressed against hers.

Suddenly, she found herself pushed away.

Neil held her at arms length, his hands on her shoulders, his eyes wide and breath coming in shallow gasps. His mouth was agape, lips swollen.

She touched her hand to her mouth, wondering how hers looked. Her mind began to clear and she blushed, stepping back, out of his grip.

The music wafted through from outside, a light and happy tune, without a care in the world.

"I'm so sorry." Neil stepped closer to check she was okay.

She shook her head. "That wasn't your fault."

He tilted his head to one side, his expression one of disbelief. "Don't run away. It was only a kiss."

She scoffed and finally looked him in the eye, shaking her head.

"What I mean is, you've done nothing wrong. Neither of us meant for this to happen. We were under the mistaken impression that I was free. If it weren't for that, if I were free -"

"Don't." She pressed her fingers to his lips then pulled her hand away, shocked by her own rash behaviour. The barrier between them had been blown away. How would she ever put it back in place? "It'll do no good."

"But I want you to know, Christy. I'd have courted you, maybe even married you by now, if you'd said yes."

She resolved to leave as soon as her reply was spoken, but she would tell him the whole truth first. That was her goal in coming here in the first place: to tell Neil the truth. "I'd have said yes." Her voice faltered but the cabin was quiet. There was no missing her words.

He smiled, then his eyes clouded over, wary of hope, "And now?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I were free – in a month, or a year, I don't know how long it takes. No, don't answer now. But know this: I will ask you. One day."

She was too shocked to move or speak.

The record crackled and went silent. They both turned toward it.

Free from his scrutiny she found the courage to speak, "I'll wait."

He turned, his expression nothing but surprise. Then a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and a moment later he was grinning, whipping her up into his arms and holding her tight.

Her feet barely touched the floor but had no desire to leave. She held on to him, let her head rest on his shoulder. Neither spoke or moved. Another kiss was tempting and terrifying at once. Leaving seemed impossible.

Christy loosened her grip and he let her slip away. He nodded in reply to her soft-spoken goodbye. This was so much to take in. He had to find Margaret before she left for Atlanta. Within minutes he was on his way to El Pano, urging Charlie on with his heels.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I imagine both 'The Doctor is In' and 'Expectation and Assumption' would continue pretty much along the same lines, which is why I only intend to continue one of them. On top of which, I'd rather commit to something I have the time and resources to complete. Whichever you preferred, imagine its continuation is as follows...

From Chapter 3 onward, I will only be posting under 'The Doctor is In' (it won by a fraction, but its my favourite).

They walked toward the lake without speaking, both nervous, afraid even.

David stopped at the far jetty, turned, looked back. "I never expected this place to feel like home."

"It's strange isn't it. Sometimes I think I am an entirely different person from that girl who stumbled up the steps in a storm."

"And into my arms." He looked at her, searching for the answer to the question he was about to ask. "You made it home. You could make anywhere home, for me."

She swallowed. This was going to be even harder than she'd expected.

"Will you?" He fished in his pocket and pulled out a velveted box, hiding it in a clenched fist. "Here or anywhere, will you come home to me, share my home? These past two years, working together, living together; I can think of nothing I desire more than to share all of life with you, Christy."

She sighed, turning slightly so as not to face him fully.

He held the ring box open, offering her much, much more than a ring, and waiting.

"I don't think I'll ever want to leave this place." She began.

He waited.

"These past two years have been the most difficult and most rewarding of my life. I have known friendship and purpose and I never could have remained this long if not for you, David."

He nodded, and waited.

"We would be content together, maybe happy. But David, I'm not in love with you. You deserve much, much more."

He snapped the ring box closed and walked away.

She watched him go then turned back to the lake, breathing deep. He would be all right, she hoped, God, let him be all right. Be his comfort. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt him, I just don't know what to do. She knelt down on the rough wooden boards. They reminded her of the chair at Neil's that easily-surmountable obstacle. The thought of Neil and she was racked with guilt. She pressed her fists into the gnarled planks. The pain felt right, deserved. She groaned in frustration and let herself cry. There was no avoiding it, and better here than in the mission house, overheard by Ruby Mae, or Alice, or even David.

When she returned, she'd missed Dinner. Alice was sitting outside, waiting for her.

"I was beginning to worry." She confessed.

"I'm sorry."

Alice shook her head. "You're not in trouble, Christy."

"Oh, Miss Alice."

Alice stood, reached out.

"Is David all right?" Christy hesitated, feeling unworthy of the comfort Alice offered.

Alice lifted her eyebrows. Of course David wasn't all right. She needn't even say the words.

"I am certain I've made the right decision, and yet I feel so guilty."

"Ease is no indication of virtue. I'd venture the opposite is more often the case."

Christy sighed and stepped into Alice's embrace.

"Give it time. Give David time, and yourself."

Christy nodded into her shoulder, clinging to her as the tears returned.

Miss Alice rubbed her back and kissed her hair. "Oh, my dear girl."

"Thank you." Christy sobbed and gradually calmed down.

Without another word, Alice led her up to her room. "Try to sleep."

Christy nodded. "He's not going to leave, is he?"

"David?"

Christy bit her lip.

"Perhaps it is what God wants. But David's path is out of thy hands, Christy. Leave that burden in the hands of one who can hold it." Alice backed out of the room and closed the door.

Christy sat heavily on her bed, then flopped back. Her head and eyes ached from crying, her legs ached from kneeling on cold, hard ground. Laying back on her bed felt so good. The tension seemed to seep out of her and she slept.

David disappeared into his work, barely appearing for meals. Christy followed suit. It was all she could do. Come Friday she was exhausted, but classes had gone ahead without any major dramas, had distracted her from thinking of the two men in her life, for most of each day, and now she tidied the classroom, trying to stretch out distraction for just a little longer.

Once that was done, she took out her planner and started writing up monday morning's first lesson on the blackboard. She could turn it around and put it out of the way for church on sunday, but it would be such a good start to next week.

She heard a horse approach, and a minute later, familiar footsteps outside the school. Too familiar. She didn't even turn from her work.

Neil walked up the aisle. "You're working awfully hard for this late on a Friday."

"I wanted to get a head start on next week." She turned ever so briefly, caught a glimpse of him, still approaching her, and turned back to the blackboard, only to find she'd completely lost track of what she was in the middle of writing.

He came right up behind her. She tensed. He kissed her neck. She broke the chalk.

"Someone will see." Her voice faltered.

"There's no one around. I checked."

Why was she out of breath? She put the chalk down and, determined to be cautious, to convince Neil to be cautious, she turned around.

He was so close.

She stepped past him and went to her desk. Something there might help her to finish monday's lesson. "Maybe we shouldn't do anything that requires sneaking around."

"I wasn't sneaking Christy. I just happened to notice the place was deserted. Accuse me of being an opportunist if you like."

She turned to face him, sighed, smiled. "I wasn't accusing. What brings you here?"

"I have a letter from Margaret, for Alice."

Christy hesitated, then nodded, fearing for Alice's peace of mind, or heart. It was much closer to heart when it came to her daughter.

"I'm sorry." He sighed heavily. "I just wanted to be sure Monday wasn't some kind of hallucination."

He was rarely less than entirely certain of himself. It was a testament to the turmoil and reassured her that her own struggle was warranted. "I keep forgetting." She leaned back on the desk, "and then remembering."

"And then stopping in my tracks." He added, stepping closer.

"And then fumbling to cover myself." She looked him in the eye. "One moment I'm so happy and the next in a panic of helplessness. I feel like a fool, and then more alive than ever, and then a fool again."

"You're not a fool."

"I told David I can't marry him."

He tried not to grin and his efforts were obvious. "That doesn't make you a fool."

She shook her head, closed her planner, and walked to the blackboard.

Neil moved to help her and they turned it around, placing it in an out-of-the-way corner.

"Thank you." She stayed holding the board.

"I can go if you want me to. I'll make myself scarce, if that would make it any easier for you." He stood at an awkward distance.

"What about you?" She let her hands drop to her sides, straightened her skirt.

"What's easy and what's right aren't very compatible are they?" He sat down on one of the desks.

She stepped toward him, stopping before she got too close, afraid of what she, or he, might do, given the opportunity. "Don't disappear Neil. I couldn't bear it."

He looked up at her, just out of reach, and swallowed. "Well, it's good to know I wasn't hallucinating. Very reassuring."

She smiled. "Unless we both dreamed up the same reckless..."

He stood and the space between them was no longer a safe distance.

"Neil," she warned, weakly.

"I won't." He looked at her like he very much would – would kiss her any moment.

"Because I'm not sure I wouldn't."

"That makes it easier." He glared at her.

"I'm sorry. I seem to have broken some kind of stop-gate between us and now I'm not sure that the tiniest nudge won't undo me entirely."

He forced himself to walk away, put some distance between them. "You've no idea how tempting the prospect."

"I might have some idea."

He couldn't help but smile at that, the ever-charming notion that she found him tempting. "I'd better go."

She almost shook her head, but stopped herself. A concise nod was beyond her.

He turned to go.

"Wait," She stepped forward, stopping at the first desk in her path.

He stopped but didn't turn back.

"Don't test me, Christy. I'll fail."

"I'm not. I only meant to offer the same courtesy you offered me."

He turned back, curious and confused.

"Would it be easier, for you, if we didn't see each other for a while."

He cocked his head to one side, an irrepressible smile on his lips. "It would be easier not to accidentally kiss you. But everything else would be more difficult. I don't think you realise the light that you've brought – I know I'm not the only one graced by it, but I think I must be the most affected. Perhaps I was further into the dark than everyone else, or perhaps you just shine brighter to me." He seemed astonished at his own openness, stopped himself, and then began again. "What I mean to say is that your friendship is more precious to me than any of these far off dreams of some kind of future together. I only hope that one day its safe to bet on the dreams, but for now I'll put it all on your friendship."

She was moved and didn't notice the tears spilling onto her cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I should go."

She watched him go then realised she was crying. Swiping at her cheeks, she quickly tidied away the last of the school things. She sat on the school house steps and watch the last of the dusk fade into dark, until she heard Neil's horse depart. Picking up her lunch pail, she made her way back to the mission house.


End file.
